


Too Sexy For His Shirt

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Malcom is coerced into entering a competition, then ends up performing to "The Stripper." (11/26/2005)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: The outcome of the competition is obvious from early on, but enjoy getting there.  


* * *

Crewman Kelly, from engineering, had come up with this great idea to relieve the monotony of spending weeks travelling through empty, endless space—a competition to find the sexiest person on board _Enterprise_.

It all started when she decided to take photos of the senior staff, out of uniform, for the next issue of the ship's newsletter. Captain Archer was all for it, and as good as ordered the rest of them to agree. Naturally there were some dissenters—well just one, actually. Lt. Malcolm Reed thought it was completely unnecessary and made his feelings plain.

"Aw, c'm on, Mal. Where's the harm?" Commander Charles Tucker III tried talking his lover into changing his mind, but Malcolm Reed was adamant.

"No, Trip," he said, "I have no intention of posing for what are essentially pin-up pictures."

"The rest of us are doing it. You'll be the odd one out if you don't." Trip was doing his best, but Malcolm wouldn't be moved.

"Then I shall be the odd one out," he retorted. "It won't be the first time."

When Tucker told Kelly that Lt. Reed would not co-operate, she wasn't worried. She thought she would probably get him one way or another.

* * *

Kelly had great fun photographing the senior staff. Each one was posed with something connected with his or her job and Kelly took several different shots of each one, including a head-and-shoulders shot.

The Captain was pictured sitting in the command chair wearing a green, short-sleeved, knit shirt and jeans.

T'pol was persuaded to wear one of her Vulcan dresses, a flowing peacock blue gown, and she held a tricorder.

Trip ,of course, had to wear his most outrageously patterned Hawaiian shirt, with cream-coloured lightweight trousers. He held a microspanner. He would have preferred the warp engine but it was just a bit too big.

Hoshi Sato was happy to dress in one of her beautiful kimonos and to carry her universal translator.

Travis Mayweather was pictured in the gym wearing rather brief shorts and singlet,

and he was holding an old-fashioned sextant that was one of his most prized possessions.

Dr. Phlox posed with a hypospray whilst wearing his most daring outfit—a long-sleeved pink and purple shirt with his favourite 'mandarin' style collar.

Having captured six of the seven senior staff, Kelly started wondering how to get Lt Reed.

* * *

Her chance came on movie night!

Malcolm had agreed to go after Trip had told him there would be lots of explosions in it,—"and you know you love a good explosion, Mal."—that was the convincing line.

Trip rang the chime on Malcolm's door, all eager to take his lover to the movie, but when he saw Malcolm wearing faded jeans and tee-shirt, Trip was disappointed.

"Hey! I went to a lot of trouble to dress up for you tonight," he complained indicating his button up blue shirt and navy trousers, "and you've just thrown on any old thing."

"Oh. Sorry, Trip." Malcolm sighed. "You really look great. I do like that shirt on you." He kissed Trip on the lips in apology. "I didn't mean to show you up. Here, give me a few minutes and I'll change."

He turned to rummage in his wardrobe and brought out a black shirt and his leather trousers.

Trip sat down on Malcolm's bunk while Malcolm stripped off. The two had been a couple for over a year now and were quite comfortable with each other, although Malcolm was completely unaware of how delectable he looked wearing nothing but a thong. As he eased himself into his leather trousers, Trip felt himself getting rather horny.

"Gee, Mal," he thought. "you've just no idea what you do to me." He tried not to look too hard, (should I rephrase that?) but—well, he didn't think Malcolm would mind or he would have gone into the bathroom to change. So he sat and admired the play of his lover's muscles under his skin as he moved. Malcolm put on his shirt and after doing up just the lower buttons, which meant a good portion of his chest was visible, tucked it neatly into his trousers.

Trip gulped, and said, "I think it's time we went. We don't want to be late"

* * *

Together they made their way to the mess hall, joining the crowd of people already trying to get through the door.

"Hi, Malcolm, Trip." Hoshi Sato waved furiously at them. "We've saved you some seats."

"Thanks, Hoshi.", Trip said as they sat down. Travis Mayweather was sitting the far side of Hoshi, with two tubs of popcorn.

"Are you sure you've got enough, Travis?" Malcolm asked.

"Oh. yeah. Like I'm gonna eat all this lot." Travis grinned. "I got some for you two before it all went."

"Why thanks, Travis." Trip took the proffered bowl, "That was real thoughtful of you."

"What are friends for?" Travis sat back and put his arm around Hoshi, who happily snuggled up to him.

Two rows behind them, Kelly sat with Liz Cutler, looking at Lt. Reed.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kelly asked, mysteriously.

"Yup!" was Cutler's brief reply.

"I'm going to slip out and get my camera." Kelly stood up to leave, but was stopped by Cutler's hand on her sleeve.

"Don't forget the pistol." she whispered.

"Good thing you reminded me." Kelly disappeared from the room.

Five minutes later she was back with both items in a small holdall.

"We've just _got_ to catch him before he leaves tonight." Cutler said quietly.

"Perhaps we can get Commander Tucker to keep him here for a bit." Kelly said, hopefully.

"Mmm. It's not often we see the lieutenant out of uniform , and this is as good as it gets. Have you looked at him?"

"Yes, and there's one word that comes to mind Wow!"

"My feelings exactly."

"Shhhh." Their whispered conversation had started to annoy their neighbours. So they subsided to watch the feature.

Completely oblivious of the plotting going on behind them, Trip and Malcolm were getting involved with the film. Trip put his arm around Malcolm's shoulders and pulled him close. Malcolm was quite content to stay that way.

Malcolm was happy! He had actually leapt out of his seat and punched the air with delight at the explosions that occurred during the final moments of the film

"Wow," he said, "Now that really was well done. I'm glad you talked me into this, Trip."

"So are you in a good mood now?"

"Certainly."

"So we can go back to your quarters for a beer then, can we?"

"Not so fast." Kelly spoke up from just behind them. "If the lieutenant is in such a good mood, perhaps he would consider posing for some photos now?"

"What? No."

"Yes, Mal" Trip held his arm to stop him escaping and turned to Kelly, "Where do you want him?"

"Over against that wall. It makes a good background."

"Right. Stand over there, Malcolm, and do whatever Kelly asks of you."

"No. I'm not doing this, Trip."

"Yes you are, and if necessary, as your superior officer, I will make it an order."

"In that case, I would like it noted that I do so under duress."

"Do it under whatever you like, Malcolm, as long as you do it."

The next ten minutes were purgatory for Malcolm. He stood in the poses Kelly wanted, but he flatly refused to smile. He scowled, he smirked, he put on his most serious expression—but he would not smile. To start with he decided to button his shirt up to the neck, but Kelly told him not to, in fact she got him to undo another button. Then she gave him a phase pistol to hold. He looked at it with some surprise, wondering how she had got it from the armoury, then realised that it was a replica.

"Oh, great. Now I'm playing with toy guns."

"Just hold it James Bond fashion, Sir." Kelly asked.

He did, giving her his best scowl, not realising that in fact he was smouldering.

Looking through her viewfinder, Kelly caught her breath.

"Oh boy! This is going to be fantastic!"

Next she had Malcolm standing with his feet slightly apart, holding the pistol in both hands and pointing it straight downwards.

"I strongly object to this," Malcolm cried. "It is definitely not the way to hold a phase pistol. Someone might think I was demonstrating the correct hold."

"No they won't Mal. Just shut up and do as you're told." Trip was getting a bit cranky. He wanted to get Malcolm back to his cabin, and from the comments of people round about, Kelly wasn't the only one noticing how hot Malcolm was looking.

Kelly asked Malcolm to sit on a table, with his right foot on the table top, his left foot on the floor and his right arm resting on his knee. He automatically put his left hand down on the table behind to balance himself. With the phase pistol dangling from his right hand he looked—ah—well—Kelly was finding it rather difficult to take the pictures, the viewfinder kept misting up!

Finally Kelly closed up her camera and said, " That's it. Thank you, Lieutenant. I really appreciate your co-operation."

"I just hope it was worth it, that's all."

"Oh, I think we've got some rather nice pictures here."

Cutler sidled up to Kelly and said quietly, " I think those pics are going to be a bit better than 'rather nice'. Don't you?"

"Of course. But I wouldn't tell the lieutenant that. * I *think these pics will need a public health warning, they're so hot!"

"Here, Kelly, take your toy back." Malcolm tossed the pistol towards her.

She caught it deftly. "Thanks. It's a present for my nephew." She put it in the holdall with the camera and left the mess hall with Cutler.

"How about that beer, then, Mal?" Trip was waiting impatiently by the door for him.

"I don't know that you deserve it but..."

"You know I do really." Trip gave him that engaging grin of his, and Malcolm conceded defeat. They headed for the turbolift and B deck.

* * *

Trip had finished his shift in engineering and decided he'd go to find Malcolm and persuade him to have some dinner. He wandered into the armoury and saw the object of his search at one of the consoles. He'd entered rather quietly and Malcolm was engrossed in what he was doing, so Trip leant against a locker and waited.

After a couple of minutes, Malcolm said, without looking up, "Are you just going to stand there, Trip, or do I have to guess what you want?"

"I might have known I couldn't sneak up on you."

"You call that sneaking? A herd of elephants could have done better."

"Did you hear me?"

Malcolm turned to face Trip.

"Yes, and I saw you."

"How? You had your back to me. Have you got eyes in the back of your head or something?"

"Definitely 'or something'. Ever heard of mirrors, Trip?"

"There are no mirrors around here."

"Not what you'd call mirrors, no. But there are plenty of reflective surfaces."

"OK. Right. Well, I came to drag you down to the mess hall for some dinner. Unless I miss my guess, you didn't have any lunch today."

"I was too busy to stop for lunch, but dinner I'm looking forward to. Let's go."

* * *

"At least it wasn't resequenced meatloaf today." Trip remarked as they found a table and sat down with their meals.

"Chef does it so frequently that some people must like it."

"Can't think who."

"Hi, guys. Can we join you?"

They both looked up at the sound of Hoshi's voice. She and Travis were waiting expectantly with their trays.

"Of course. " Malcolm waved them to the empty seats.

Hoshi was obviously full of some news she wanted to impart, and couldn't wait to tell them. She dug in one of her pockets and came out with a bundle of paper.

"Kelly is distributing the newsletter and I managed to get one of the first ones. Guess what? All our pictures are in it, and they're fantastic. Kelly takes some super photos."

Trip almost snatched the newsletter out of Hoshi's hands and riffled through until he found the pages of photos. The centrefold was of the captain as was his right. The three pages before had pictures of T'Pol, Trip and Dr Phlox.

"Hey. T'Pol looks so good in that dress. Wish she'd crack her face and smile, though." Trip said.

"You look as though you're enjoying yourself, Trip. It's a smashing picture of you." Malcolm said, with his chin practically resting on Trip's shoulder.

"Where're our pictures?" Travis asked.

"Must be further on," Trip said flicking the pages. He passed the captain's picture and then found the pages with photos of Hoshi, Travis- and Malcolm.

"Wow." He whistled in appreciation.

Malcolm nudged his arm. "Is Hoshi's photo that good?" he asked.

"Hoshi's? Dunno, I'm not looking at hers. I'm looking at yours."

"Mine? You must be joking."

"No, he's not, Malcolm," Hoshi grabbed the newsletter and turned the page for all to see. "Just look at that. I've never seen a sexier photo. That picture is going to adorn a lot of walls" It was the photo taken with Malcolm sitting on the table.

"Gee, Mal, you may not have wanted to pose for pin-up pics, but that's exactly what you have done." Trip put a hand on his friend's shoulder as Malcolm put his head in his hands and groaned in dismay.

"I think I'm going to resign from Starfleet. Perhaps I'll go and live on a desert island somewhere."

The four friends finished their meal while discussing the merits, or otherwise of the photos, aware that quite a few other diners were doing exactly the same thing. Several crewmen, male as well as female looked across at Malcolm and silently wolf whistled. Then Lt. Hess whistled out loud directly at Malcolm.

Trip, Hoshi and Travis watched as Malcolm blushed right up to his hairline, then he picked up his tray and said, "I'm getting out of here." He tipped his tray's contents in the recycler and headed for the door amid a chorus of wolf whistles and cheers.

Trip caught up with him as he strode down the corridor towards the turbolift.

"Hold on, Mal. I've got some scotch in my quarters if you're interested." Trip could see his lover was rather embarrassed by the happenings in the mess hall, but knew that it would be better if he was not left alone right now. He would probably start brooding and thinking that it was all a bad joke.

Malcolm accepted the offer of a drink and walked with Trip to his quarters.

"Hmm. A single malt." said Malcolm appreciatively as Trip poured the amber liquid into two chunky glasses. He invited Malcolm to take the only chair, while he himself sat on the floor with his back against the bunk.

"Thought you'd like it. I don't only drink bourbon, you know."

They sat quietly for a while, conversation not always being necessary between them.

Then "Whatcha thinkin', Mal?" The alcohol made Trip's Southern accent more pronounced.

Malcolm looked up. "How long do you think it will take all this fuss to die down?"

"Dunno. A week. P'raps two. D'pends how soon the next excitin' thing crops up."

"I don't think I can stand it for that long."

"Well, ya could go and get y'self confined to sickbay with some sorta alien bug, I s'pose."

"Do you have any alien bugs handy?"

"Nah, 'fraid not."

"You're a lot of help."

"At least Ah'm tryin'!"

"Yes, I know, and I appreciate it."

There was silence for a few minutes then Trip said, "Stay the night?"

Malcolm smiled at him.

"Love to," he said, easing himself down to the floor and snuggling up to his lover.

* * *

Captain Archer was bored.

Trip and Malcolm were bored.

Hoshi and Travis were bored.

Even T'Pol was showing signs of distress.

In fact, anyone you asked would have said they were bored.

Except Dr. Phlox . He was fed up.

Fed up with dishing out remedies for boredom related illnesses.

The senior staff were all in the Captain's ready room, listening to his latest brilliant scheme. 'Brilliant' depending on who you were and how you looked at it. Well, it was not exactly the Captain's idea, but he thought it would be good for morale, so he was all for it.

Crewmen Kelly and Cutler had liked the staff photos very much, and thought that they all looked rather sexy. They had the idea of taking photos of* all _crewmembers_ *and having a competition to find the sexiest person on board *Enterprise.

*This grabbed the attention of the senior staff in various ways. T'Pol declared that it was illogical and a waste of resources. Trip, Travis, Hoshi and Phlox all thought it a wonderful idea and Malcolm said "I've never heard anything so stupid in my entire life."

"Well, whatever you think of it, this is going ahead, and all crewmembers are taking part with absolutely no exceptions," Archer announced.

"Captain, I categorically refuse to pose for more pictures,"

"But that's the beauty of it, Malcolm, you don't have to. Kelly already has pictures of the senior staff."

Malcolm sighed, and folded his arms across his chest in resignation.

"So how's this going to work, Cap'n?" Trip asked.

"Kelly and Cutler will photograph all members of the crew, and the pictures will be displayed in the mess hall. There will be three rounds. Everyone will have one vote at each round. There are eighty-three people on board. The thirty with the most votes will go through to the second round. The ten with the most votes from the second round will go through to the third round. The winner and two runners up will be chosen from these ten."

"So this is not going to be over in a few days, then, Captain?" Malcolm asked.

"No, I intend to string this out as long as possible. There could be a week between rounds. We are travelling through a very uninteresting section of space and the crew are in need of a definite morale boost. Phlox has informed me of a number of personnel going to him with the kind of complaints that can only be attributed to boredom. This will give them something to hold their interest for two or three weeks. Any questions?"

"Yes, Cap'n." Trip spoke up. "You've made no mention of prizes. I s'pose there will be prizes?"

"There will be prizes, Trip." Archer responded. "A bottle of champagne for each of the three winners, and the overall winner will have a slap-up meal prepared in my private dining room to which he or she can invite three friends. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Gee. Yeah, Cap'n. Very reasonable"

"Good. Any other questions?"

T'Pol actually raised her hand. "How do I assess the—um—sexiness of a human, whether male or female?"

"Why don't you have a chat with Trip or Travis? I'm sure they'll be able to help you out there. OK people, back to your duties."

They all filed out of the small room in varying moods, from excitement (Hoshi) to incomprehension (T'Pol). Trip and Malcolm headed for the turbolift as they were both going back to their departments.

As the lift took them down they discussed the 'contest'.

"I'm inclined to agree with T'Pol." Malcolm sighed. "It's an utter waste of resources. They could have found some other way of boosting morale."

"Such as? I bet you don't have an answer. I think its a great idea."

"Maybe you like having people drool over your picture. I don't."

"The Cap'n and Travis' pictures were pretty good, too, you know. I shall be interested to see the rest of the photos. There are some real lookers among the female crewmembers. Take Crewman Williams. Have you seen her in a low cut dress? She wore one at a party a few months back. I reckon she'll take some beating. And what about Keely, huh?"

The lift had reached Trip's deck so their conversation was cut short as Malcolm was going one deck further.

"I'll see you later, Trip. Dinner tonight?"

"Sure thing, Mal." Trip called back as the lift doors closed taking Malcolm down to the armoury.

* * *

A week later personnel entering the mess hall were greeted by a wall of pictures. Kelly and Cutler had done a great job of photographing the crew, enlarging and printing the results and arranging them on the wall. Nobody was left out. Even Porthos had his spot! All the pictures were numbered, no names, and voters simply had to write the number of their choice on their voting slip and post it in a special box.

Comments were heard that as Porthos had been included he would also be allowed a vote. Who, then, would decide Porthos' choice? Captain Archer? It would stand to reason that the Captain would have Porthos vote for his master, wouldn't it? Would that be fair? One vote either way would not make much difference, would it? The discussion went on throughout the next couple of days.

Eventually, the Captain got to hear about it and sent out a shipwide announcement.

"This is Captain Archer speaking. I would like it to be known that Porthos is as much a member of this crew as anyone and as such is entitled to have his say in this competition. However, I want to make it clear to all of you that he will not, I repeat not, be voting for me. Archer out."

Over the next few days people were to be seen studying the pictures, marking their slips and posting them in the box.

Trip and Malcolm stood side by side looking at the wall of photos.

"Who're you voting for, Mal?" Trip asked. "Williams still looks good, but then so does Travis. Look at those biceps."

"He's OK if you like that sort of thing. Personally I think I'll vote for Porthos. What's his number?" Malcolm neatly wrote a number on his slip, folded it and posted it in the box.

"You're not serious, are you?" Trip asked. "I've voted for...ah, no perhaps I shouldn't say."

Malcolm grinned at Trip. The number he had written down was Trip's not Porthos'.

* * *

Trip was breakfasting with the Captain and T'Pol the next morning and conversation had turned to the competition. Something was worrying Trip.

"Y'know, Cap'n, a lot of people are wondering just how Porthos made his choice. I think you're going to have to admit that, in fact, you got two votes."

"No I didn't. Porthos made his own choice."

"And just exactly how did he do that? Did he actually say the name of his preference? Or maybe he wrote the number on his voting slip?"

"Neither." Archer had to laugh at the thought of Porthos filling in his slip. "I'll tell you how he let me know his decision. First I explained to him what I was going to do. Then I called up the complete crew complement on my computer, and I read out the names in alphabetical order. He listened carefully to each name. He did show some interest when I read out my own name, but that is only to be expected. Most of the time he just sat there with his head on his paws, occasionally becoming a little excited at the sound of someone he knows. But I knew he had made his choice when one particular name had him jump up wagging his tail and yapping happily. I asked him if he was quite sure, and he jumped on my lap and licked my face. I wrote that person's number on Porthos' voting slip."

"Don't s'pose you want to tell us who he voted for?" Trip asked.

"Ask me after the competition. All I can say is, I think he has very good taste."

* * *

The closing date for the first round arrived and the box of voting slips was taken away to be counted by Kelly and Cutler.

The mess hall was closed while the photos of the unlucky crewmembers were removed from the wall and the thirty lucky ones were rearranged. People waited outside the doors with bated breath.

Finally, the doors were opened and everyone crowded in.

Squeals of delight from some lucky contestants were heard, and moans and groans from unlucky ones.

"Would you believe Porthos has got through," someone at the front called out.

"It's a fix," was heard from several voices but there was laughter in them.

From the senior staff, the Captain, Travis, Trip and Malcolm were all there. It was understandable that Phlox didn't get through but did nobody find Hoshi or T'Pol sexy?

When Malcolm saw his picture up on the wall he was not happy. but he brightened up when he saw Trip's picture still there. Crewman Williams (showing off her very obvious assets)from hydroponics was there as well as Ensign Cook from engineering, Ensign Tanner from armoury, Crewman Namon recently assigned to astrometrics (she was very petite and pretty with it) and Crewman Baird from communications, which meant there was a reasonable cross section from all departments. There would be another week for everyone to make their selection for the second round. The tension was building!

* * *

Another week of enduring boring, empty space had made even Malcolm think that the competition was a good idea after all. Phlox had reported fewer people visiting sickbay with boredom-related problems, and the atmosphere on the ship was definitely more cheerful. How early space explorers had coped with journeys of months, and even years, just to get to planets in the solar system, was beyond comprehension. Nowadays it took only six minutes at warp four point five to go from Earth to Neptune—and back!

Captain Archer entered the mess hall and went to look at the wall of photos, much reduced now from the original eighty-four.

"Hi, Cap'n." Trip came over and joined him. "Have you posted your second vote yet?"

"Hello, Trip. No. I'm just making sure that both Porthos and my choices are still here."

"And are they?"

"Yes, I'm glad to say."

"Porthos will be pleased."

"Yes, he will." Archer filled in both slips and posted them. "I'd better get back and tell him. See you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Cap'n"

Malcolm had posted his vote as soon as he had received his voting slip from Crewman Kelly. As Trip's picture was still there he did not have to consider a different candidate, as some people had. He thought Trip had a pretty good chance of winning with his blue eyes and blonde hair, and yes, having looked at the picture more closely he could see that Kelly had cleverly airbrushed out a couple of Trip's blemishes. It got him wondering as to how many other pictures had been 'cleaned up'. But it was just a bit of fun, not a serious competition.

* * *

Most people had cast their votes several days before voting ended and so were waiting rather impatiently for the count. Therefore, when the day of the count arrived there was a heightened feeling of excitement all over the ship.

The result was to be announced at 1600 hours, and long before that time there was a big crowd in the corridor leading to the mess hall. And they were not exactly quiet and orderly. Lt. Hess, seeing the crowd, tried to restore some sort of order, but found it beyond her.

She hit the nearest comm panel. "Hess to security."

"Reed here. What is it?"

"We could do with some help outside the mess hall, Sir."

"Why? What's going on?"

"It looks like everyone who's not on duty is here waiting for the voting results. As you can probably hear, it's very noisy, but its not belligerent. It's more like a party."

"OK. Hess. I'll send a team down. Reed out."

A few minutes later two members of security arrived and soon had the problem well in hand. They had been told to use soft tactics, and not to put too much of a dampener on the proceedings, so they calmed things down with a laugh and a joke. Good humour prevailed.

Back on the bridge Captain Archer seemed amused.

"I'm glad people are so anxious for the results of this round. It certainly has been a boost to morale."

"Yes, Sir." Malcolm had been at his tactical station when Hess called, and Archer had heard the exchange. "I just hope they don't start getting uppity when their particular favourite is voted off."

"Uppity, Malcolm?"

"Aye, Sir. Self-assertive, if you prefer."

"Yes, I could see that would lead to the situation possibly getting out of hand."

"But at least it would give Security something to do." Malcolm replied. "I wonder just how many the brig could hold if pushed?"

"You'll be planning on handcuffing people to their desks next."

"Interesting thought, Sir." There was a definite smirk on Malcolm's face.

Down in the mess hall Kelly and Cutler put the finishing touches to the photo-wall, stood back and viewed their work.

"There are going to be some unhappy people out there." Cutler remarked. "I really thought the Captain would have got through this time, didn't you?"

"Yes. And Porthos didn't make it either." Kelly replied.

"I think most people took this round much more seriously." Cutler said as she collected up the unwanted photos.

"I suppose we'd better let them in now." Kelly moved towards the door. "Stand back, or you'll get mown down by the crowd." As Cutler moved away from the direct line of the door, Kelly pressed the button and said door swished open.

There were now just ten photos left on the wall—six men and four women. And what a selection!

In alphabetical order they were- Ensign James Almack, Crewman Richard Baird, Crewman David Cunningham, Crewman Michael Fisher, Ensign Vanessa Keely, Ensign Jerry McFarlane, Ensign Travis Mayweather, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed , Ensign Billy Jo Secorro, and Crewman Katherine Williams.

On the bridge Captain Archer was enjoying letting his senior staff know who was out of the competition and who was still in.

"Unfortunately, Porthos and I are both out."

"That's a shame, Sir." Hoshi commiserated from her station. "I felt sure you would be in the final round."

"Obviously not enough people agreed with you. Also out, strangely enough, is Trip."

"Really?" Malcolm looked up from tactical, most surprised. "Are you sure?"

"'Fraid so, Malcolm. But you're not."

"Ah. You must have got it the wrong way round, Sir. I'm out and Trip's in, surely?"

"Nope. Travis is still in, you'll be pleased to know."

Travis beamed at this news.

"Hey, great. I've always fancied myself as a sex symbol."

"Don't count your chickens, Travis. You've still got Malcolm to beat." Archer was thoroughly enjoying all this.

Malcolm was wondering if Trip had heard the news. He was working on a problem in engineering and would be for some time, but Kelly had probably told him by now. Malcolm was rather annoyed at the way the voting had gone, but realised he should not let it bother him. 'Time to take control,' he told himself. 'It's only a friendly contest, after all. No big deal.'

Trip had heard. Both Hess and Kelly had made a point of telling him.

"I don't mind a bit being out of it myself," he gamely said, "as long as Malcolm's still in there."

"I'll let you in to a little secret, Sir." Kelly whispered in conspiratorial fashion. She moved close to Trip so that Hess could not hear and said...

"Honest?" Trip's face lit up. Kelly's revelation surely pleased him no end.

She nodded with a grin before getting back to work.

"She's not giving away voting secrets, is she?" Hess asked.

"What she said is between Kelly and me, Hess."

"Of course, Sir," Hess went back to her console.

Malcolm and Trip managed to meet up for a late dinner that evening, and were joined by Hoshi.

"Hi, guys." She always seemed to be cheerful. As she sat down with her tray, she noticed the rather despondent look on Malcolm's face.

"What's up with Malcolm?" she asked.

"He doesn't like it 'cos I'm out of the final ten, and he's in."

"How can they rate Cunningham higher than Trip?" Malcolm asked Hoshi. "And what about McFarlane and Baird? They can't hold a candle to him."

"Ooh, Malcolm, calm down. I think you're getting a bit—what was that word—uppity?"

"Uppity?" Trip asked. "What sort of a word is that?"

"Ask Malcolm. He introduced us to it on the bridge earlier." Hoshi giggled.

"It means being..."

"Ya don't have to tell me, Mal. I think I can work it out for myself." He put is arm across Malcolm's shoulders and murmured in his ear, "That's another word for me to add to my dictionary." To Hoshi he said, "I love it when he comes out with words like that, especially when I can use them to describe him at some time. And I think I'm going to be able to use this one a lot."

Malcolm scowled.

"So, Mal, " Trip wanted to know. "Now I'm not on the wall any longer, who are you going to vote for this time?"

"I've absolutely no idea."

"Ha! Gotcha!" Trip was delighted. Malcolm had refused to say earlier who he'd voted for, but now he'd given himself away. When he realised he'd fallen into the trap, he rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Well, it doesn't look like it will be Cunningham, McFarlane or Baird, judging by Malcolm's earlier remarks, so that reduces the choice for him." Hoshi was ticking names off on her fingers.

"Can't see him going for the women, either." Trip ticked off four more.

"So that leaves just Jim Almack and Travis." Hoshi declared.

"You know, he could always vote for himself." Trip was enjoying watching Malcolm squirm all through this dialogue. "But I don't s'pose he'll do that 'cos he doesn't want to win."

"But _could_ he vote for himself? I mean, is it in the rules?" Hoshi asked seriously.

"I haven't heard a rule that says otherwise. There's no way of knowing how many people, if any, voted for themselves."

"The voting slips will show that." Malcolm interrupted their conversation.

They both looked at him as though they had forgotten he was there.

"They will? How?" Trip was puzzled.

Malcolm sighed. "If you'd bothered to look at your slips you would have noticed your name on them. Kelly and Cutler would have been able to match up names and numbers."

"Oh, yes." Hoshi understood. "And having the names on them meant no-one could vote more than once."

"Right."

"So, lets takes a step or two back here, then. Who're you voting for, Mal? Jim or Travis?"

Malcolm rose to his feet in despair. "I don't know. I don't care. And if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. I'm going back to my quarters, Trip. Are you coming?"

"I'm not turning down an invitation like that." Trip got up quickly and grabbed his tray.

"Now, now, boys." Hoshi chided. "Don't do anything you'll regret in the morning."

They both grinned at her as they left the mess.

* * *

Captain Archer was in one of his happy moods. He had called Kelly and Cutler to his ready room and discussed with them his ideas for making the competition final an evening's event. And now, having sent them away to make preparations, he was telling the senior staff all about it.

"We'll have the final in the mess hall on Saturday evening but we'll make quite a ceremony of it. I thought a buffet meal with music would help things go with a swing, and I've already asked Chef to do something special. He was more than happy to oblige."Archer looked round at his command staff looking for their approval. There were nods of agreement from all, even Malcolm.

"Yeah,Cap'n." Trip spoke up. "I think that's a great idea. And perhaps dancing afterwards?"

Hoshi came in with an idea too. "How about decorating the mess. You know. Streamers and balloons, or something?"

"Glad to hear you're getting into the spirit of the thing, folks." Archer responded, "But Kelly and Cutler are in charge of the arrangements, though I expect they'll be glad of any suggestions and help from anyone. So go talk to them."

Archer dismissed them to their stations, but asked T'pol to stay behind.

"Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Captain?" she asked.

"I was just wondering, T'Pol. Did you talk to Trip or Travis as I suggested? Or did you not have any problems casting your vote?"

"I did not talk to either the Commander or Ensign Mayweather. I used my own criteria for deciding who would get my vote."

"You mean you imagined we were all Vulcans?"

"No, Captain. I really don't think you would understand, and I would prefer not to say."

"Of course, T'Pol. I just wanted to make sure you had been able to join in the fun."

"I have indeed, cast my vote each time, Captain, and I am pleased that my original choice is still—'in with a chance'—as you might say."

"Well, that's great, just great." Archer smiled broadly, but as T'Pol went back onto the bridge, he felt somewhat disappointed. She had obviously not voted for him.

* * *

"Trip, are you really going to make me attend this do?"

"You're one of the finalists, Mal. You've got to be there."

"I didn't ask to be a finalist."

"Quit moaning will you? Just get your glad rags on so we can go."

"All right. All right. Stop nagging. What do you think I should wear?"

"You're asking _me_?"

"Ah. You have a point." Malcolm opened his closet and brought out a pair of navy trousers and a pale blue shirt.

"Good choice, Mal. That shirt goes well with your eyes."

"Glad you approve."

Five minutes later they were making their way down to the mess hall.

There was only a skeleton staff on duty for the evening and everyone else was crowded in the mess. The room was decorated with bunting and streamers, music was coming through loud-speakers and Chef had excelled himself with an enormous buffet.

Against one wall three chairs had been set on a small platform, the centre one being placed higher. All the chairs had been covered in fabric and trimmings to make them look special, but the one in the middle was decked out as a throne.

Malcolm saw the 'throne' and commented "I pity the poor so-and-so who's going to have to sit in that."

"Aw, I dunno, Mal." Trip answered, "I wouldn't mind."

"But you're one person who won't be sitting there."

"True. Hey, look. Hoshi and Travis have saved us some seats. Come on, before someone else gets them.." They pushed their way through the crowd to where their friends were sitting.

"Hi, you two. We thought you were never going to get here." Travis was full of beans. He and Hoshi had arrived early to ensure getting seats, and they both intended to have a good evening. While Malcolm went to get them all drinks Trip told them of the difficulty he had getting Malcolm to come. He really didn't want to be here.

"He'll enjoy himself once it gets under way." Travis said.

"Yes," Hoshi agreed. "It's probably nerves. He doesn't like being in the limelight."

"You can say that again." Trip sighed. "As long as he's not one of the three he'll be fine."

"And if he is one of the three...?" Hoshi looked worried.

"I expect he'll go bright red and disappear under the table."

The subject of their discussion returned at this point with a tray of drinks.

"Sorry I was so long. There's such a crush at the drinks dispenser."

"No worries, Mal. Sit down, I think it's about to start."

Captain Archer came into the room with Kelly and Cutler, both looking very serious and businesslike.

Archer made a speech explaining the purpose of the competition and the uplifting effects it had had on the crew. He thanked Kelly and Cutler for the way they had organised and run the competition, Chef for the buffet and anyone else for whatever they had done. Then Kelly stepped forward as M.C.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you're all having a lot fun, because that's what this evening is all about. Fun.

You all know that we started this contest with eighty-four photos on this wall, and that over three rounds they have been reduced to ten.

Tonight we are going to find out who is considered by his, or her, shipmates to be the sexiest person on board, and I know you're all desperate to know the result.

Well, I know who it is, and so does Cutler. And I must say, I thoroughly approve of your choice.

But first, I think we should have our ten finalists come forward so that we can see the real thing rather than just a photo."

Travis got up to go, then turned to Malcolm saying, "Come on, Malcolm. You too."

Malcolm was sitting with his arms crossed and scowling. "This is too much," he grumbled.

Trip gave him a push. "Go on. It won't hurt you."

Reluctantly he rose and followed Travis.

Most of the finalists had dressed for the occasion in a manner to show off their best features. Travis was wearing a tight tee-shirt that did nothing to hide his muscled torso, and Williams had on the low-cut dress she had worn once before. Keely wore a white dress that covered her completely—until she turned round. The back was cut so low, it stopped just short of being indecent!

The ten got a big cheer as they lined up facing the audience. Kelly then made a show of introducing them all giving their name, rank and department.

On the wall behind them were the three winners' photos, as yet covered over so they could not be seen.

Kelly picked up a padd and checked details. "The votes were not evenly distributed. In fact, there were only eleven votes shared between the last seven finalists. That means that the top three scored seventy-three between them."

There was a big cheer at this news, even though no-one knew who the top three were.

"Come on, Kelly," a voice called out. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"But that's exactly what I intend to do," she replied, laughing.

Cries of "Get on with it." were heard from around the room.

"O.K. O.K. In the grand tradition of all such contests I shall announce the winners in reverse order. Well, that is, Cutler will unveil the photos. Ready Cutler."

"Ready and waiting, Sir." she said.

"Right, then. Without more ado, the third place has gone to..."

And Cutler pulled the cover off the photo to the left of the centre one.

"Ensign Travis Mayweather."

Amid cheers Travis stepped forward flexing his muscles for all to see. He looked pleased as punch.

Captain Archer presented Travis with a large bottle of champagne, as promised.

Kelly spoke up again, "Travis polled twelve votes." Another cheer.

Travis was then asked to sit in one of the chairs, which he did, cuddling his bottle of bubbly.

"In second place with twenty-one votes is..."

Cutler revealed the photo on the right. It was Ensign Vanessa Keely. She moved gracefully to the centre of the platform, then did a twirl showing off her very low-cut back view.

She was duly presented with champagne and sat in her chair, amid cheers and wolf whistles.

"I think we'll have a little musical break before we go any further. The Armadillos are going to entertain us with a couple of songs which I think you will enjoy."

Amid moans and groans of frustration, Kelly left the platform and the group, three musicians and a singer from Armoury and Security, prepared to entertain the crowd. They were given a warm welcome as they were known to be very good, but the audience was really far more interested in learning the winner of the competition. The Armadillos performed several songs ending with one that was familiar to everybody, and they were all encouraged to join in.

The eight finalists, meanwhile, had seated themselves round the edge of the small platform, except that is, for one. As soon as the music started, Malcolm snuck round the back and made his way to where Trip was sitting.

"Hey, darlin'," Trip greeted him. "Not that I don't want your company, but you should stay with the others."

"I'm not needed there. I'd much rather be back here with you."

"Suits me. But when they announce the winner, you'll have to run the gauntlet of all those people in front of us to reach the platform."

"If I were the winner, yes. But I won't be, will I? So stop worrying."

"Oh, so who do you think will win?"

"Almack—or maybe Williams."

"Uh huh. Well, you could be right I s'pose. They'd neither of them be my choice, though."

"And who would your choice have been?"

"Well now. It just could be that I voted for a certain dark-haired, grey-eyed lieutenant I happen to be rather fond of. Ring any bells?"

"I really appreciate the faith you have in me, love, but.."

"Will you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Doin' yourself down all the time. You know, Mal, sometimes I get so mad when you say things like that. I feel like kicking you from here to the middle o' next week!"

Hoshi, who had been listening to this exchange, hushed them as the music came to an end.

"You're getting rather loud, Trip," she said, "and I don't think you want everyone hearing what you say."

"No. Sorry." Trip lowered his voice. "It's just that I get so frustrated with you, Mal. You've got as much chance of winning as any of them."

"But don't you understand, Trip? I don't _want_ to win!"

The conversation was cut short when Kelly took the platform once more amid cheers and applause.

"Thank you, Armadillos, that was wonderful. Now to get to the main point of the evening..." She was interrupted but lots of whistles and catcalls, and cries of "Get on with it."

"There are eight finalists left. We have three ladies and five men. I wonder which of them is the lucky winner? Just to remind you we have, in no particular order, Jerry MacFarlane, Dave Cunningham, Billy Jo Secorro, Jim Almack, Malcolm Reed, Kathy Williams and Mike Fisher." As she announced each name there was a burst of applause.

Then she made a dramatic gesture to Cutler "Prepare to unveil the winner." Liz Cutler moved to the centre photo and took hold of its covering.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Streets ahead with a massive fifty-one votes is..."

Cutler pulled away the covering to reveal...

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed."

The hall erupted with cheering, clapping, foot-stamping and wolf-whistles, but Malcolm looked at his picture and blushed right up to his hair line!

"I knew you'd do it, Mal." Trip was over the moon. "I just knew it." He jumped up and down in his excitement, then he hugged Malcolm and danced around with him. Malcolm, though was looking absolutely gobsmacked.

Kelly was looking for Malcolm among the other finalists around the platform and when she couldn't see him started looking about the room.

"Lieutenant?" she called. Then in a sing-song voice she said, "Come out, come out wherever you are."

This got a laugh, and those who were sitting near Trip and Malcolm's table urged Malcolm to his feet and to go forward. He had the daunting task of making his way through the crowds to reach the front. Trip went with him, probably to make sure he didn't suddenly make a detour to the exit. Looking somewhat bemused, he mounted the platform and turned to face Kelly.

"Don't look so nervous, Lieutenant." she told him. "You're among friends here, you know. Well, I think we can safely say that at least fifty-one of us would like to think that we are your friends."

"It's—er—very comforting to know that." Malcolm managed to say. "I suppose I've got to sit on this—um—throne, now?"

"Of course." Kelly gestured to the decorated chair, and Malcolm sat rather carefully, as if expecting it to collapse under him.

Everyone cheered once he was seated, especially Trip, who was looking very proud.

Captain Archer stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen, just a few words, because I know you don't want a lot, to say how pleased we all are that this title has been won by someone who never expected to win. That's because he has no idea of the effect he has on others. Even Porthos is completely bowled over by him. He voted for Mr Reed right from the start."

There was loud cheering at this, but Archer, ignoring Malcolm's blushes, continued.

"I've been listening to what people have been saying this past week. I've heard some of the women saying that even a hint of a smile from Mr Reed is enough to turn their knees to jelly. Several times I heard the comment that Commander Tucker is the luckiest person on _Enterprise_ , while some women have complained that it's not fair that Mr Reed should have no interest in the females on board. I agree that Mr Tucker is a very lucky man, and I sincerely hope that his and Malcolm's relationship goes from strength to strength."

Cheers and applause interrupted him, but he continued...

"I'm glad you all agree with me because now it gives me great pleasure to present Mr Reed with his prize." He turned and gave Malcolm a large bottle of champagne.

Malcolm looked at the label and commented, "That's quite a good one, Sir. Thank you."

"You're more than welcome, Malcolm, and don't forget you also have the dinner for four in the Captain's mess."

"About that, Sir, I'd rather not. Would you mind if I gave it away?"

"It's yours to do with as you please."

"I'd like Vanessa and Travis to have it. They can then each ask a friend along."

"That's very generous of you, Malcolm. From the looks on their faces, they both like that idea. But I don't know why you don't want it"

"I'd much prefer a candlelit dinner for two in my quarters, Sir."

"And I shall see that you get it." Archer was well pleased with the way things had turned out and was happy to give Malcolm what he wanted.

As Archer left the platform, Kelly stepped up.

"Lieutenant, as the sexiest person on board *Enterprise *you are going to have to pose for photos because everybody will want their own pictures, and I want some for the next issue of the newsletter. So on your feet, please, and strike a pose."

Malcolm hadn't a clue what sort of pose to strike, but people from all over the room were happy to tell him. He dutifully stood or sat as and when he was asked, doing his best to smile, and not scowl. After a while, someone suggested that he remove his shirt and show off his muscles. This was greeted with cries of "Yes, get it off!" Trip being the most vociferous.

Malcolm scowled at Trip and muttered so that only Trip could hear, "I'll get you for this."

Reluctantly he started undoing his shirt buttons. Immediately someone started singing the "stripper" song and soon most people had joined in. Surprisingly, Malcolm went along with it, undoing each button slowly and carefully, moving and swaying in time with the music, gradually removing his shirt to reveal his chest. When he finally flung his shirt across the room the audience went wild. They absolutely loved it. He couldn't have pleased them more if he'd tried.

But he hadn't finished. More photos were taken but this time Malcolm decided on the poses. First he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, then he made a show of undoing the button in a very suggestive manner. He was certainly enjoying himself now. Trip decided to get in on the act and leapt up onto the platform to stand behind Malcolm He put his arms around Malcolm so that he could run his hands over his lover's chest, his chin resting on Malcolm's shoulder. Malcolm turned to look at Trip, a smile on his face, pleased to share this time with him.

Trip ran his hands downwards until he could tuck his fingers inside Malcolm's waistband. It made for some very sexy, erotic pictures, and the audience loved it.

Eventually Kelly called a halt to the session, "I think we had better stop before things get a bit out of hand. Could we possibly have the lieutenant's shirt back here, please, so that he can get decent again?" Said shirt was duly returned to Malcolm, who, rather reluctantly it seemed, put it on.

"We've had a fantastic competition which has definitely relieved the boredom of the past few weeks," Kelly said in closing the event. "But after Mr Reed's performance here tonight I, for one, will never look at him in the same way again. But don't worry, Sir, I don't think it's going to undermine your authority.

There's still plenty of food to be eaten and there will be music for dancing, so have fun for the rest of the evening."

Malcolm would like to have left early, but of course there was no chance of that. He was the centre of attention for the next hour or so.

At some point the other photos Kelly had taken of Malcolm had been put on display with his winning photo, and now people crowded round to see them, admiring his 'James Bond' poses and head-and-shoulders shot. And Kelly was actually taking orders for them!

Trip was approached by Lt. Hess.

"Commander. Remember when Kelly whispered something to you in Engineering, a few days ago?"

"Yeah." Trip thought he knew what Hess was asking.

"Soooo?"

"I can tell you now. She said that Malcolm had won both the earlier rounds hands down."

"I thought he might have. And that suggests that some people got no votes at all."

"Yeah, but that's the way it goes. I'm more than happy with the result."

"So am I. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Sir." Hess winked at him and went off to find her friends.

"You know, Trip," said Travis some time later, "I do believe Malcolm's having a whale of a time."

"He is, isn't he? I've never seen him so happy. Who'd have thought something like this would do it for him?"

"Ooh, I just hope it lasts," Hoshi sighed. "Don't let anything burst his bubble."

"I'll do my best to keep his bubble intact." Trip put his hand in his pocket and took out a small box. "Just between the three of us, I got this for Mal, and I intend giving it to him tonight. Providing of course, I get the right answer to my question."

Hoshi was all agog. "What is it? Let's have a look."

Trip opened the box and there nestling in black velvet, was a golden band,with a row of diamonds, twinkling like stars, running through the centre.

"Oh, lovely!" Hoshi exclaimed, "We're going to have a wedding."

"Hey! Hush. I haven't asked him yet."

"Then hurry up and get on with it." Travis told him.

But Trip was in no hurry to end the evening—first he wanted to get Malcolm on the dance floor for a nice slow, smoochy number.

* * *

Silence had reigned in Trip's quarters for the last ten minutes. Trip and Malcolm were spooned together in the bunk after a frantic love-making session. They'd had their smoochy dance and more besides, then left as soon as was decently possible. Now they were sated, spent—and half asleep.

Then—

"Mal?"

"Mmm?"

"Marry me?"

"Yes please."

Pause—

"You got me a ring?"

"Naturally. Only the best for the sexiest person on board."

"I love you very much, Trip."

"An' Ah love you, darlin'."

A few minutes later—

"Mal?"

"Mmm?"

"We'd better tell the Cap'n."

"What? Right now?"

"Nah. In the mornin'."

Silence—then the susuration of lips meeting in a passionate kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what hair-brained scheme the admiral has come up with now? SomebodyI can't imagine who, but he's probably got four pips on his uniformtold Forrest about that little competition we had a few weeks ago!

  
Author's notes: Guess what hair-brained scheme the admiral has come up with now? Somebodyâ€”I can't imagine who, but he's probably got four pips on his uniformâ€”told Forrest about that little competition we had a few weeks ago!  


* * *

> "I'm Too Sexy"  
> â€”Right Said Fred
> 
> I'm too sexy for my love too sexy for my love  
> Love's going to leave me
> 
> I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt  
> So sexy it hurts  
> And I'm too sexy for Milan too sexy for Milan  
> New York and Japan
> 
> And I'm too sexy for your party  
> Too sexy for your party  
> No way I'm disco dancing
> 
> I'm a model you know what I mean  
> And I do my little turn on the catwalk  
> Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah  
> I do my little turn on the catwalk
> 
> I'm too sexy for my car too sexy for my car  
> Too sexy by far  
> And I'm too sexy for my hat  
> Too sexy for my hat what do you think about that
> 
> I'm a model you know what I mean  
> And I do my little turn on the catwalk  
> Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah  
> I shake my little touche on the catwalk
> 
> I'm too sexy for my too sexy for my too sexy for my
> 
> 'Cos I'm a model you know what I mean  
> And I do my little turn on the catwalk  
> Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah  
> I shake my little touche on the catwalk
> 
> I'm too sexy for my cat too sexy for my cat  
> Poor pussy poor pussy cat  
> I'm too sexy for my love too sexy for my love  
> Love's going to leave me
> 
> And I'm too sexy for this song

"You know, Trip," Lieutenant Malcolm Reed held his thumb and index finger a mere millimetre apart, "I'm just a teensy-weensy bit miffed."

"Oh, right." Commander Charles Tucker III looked across the dinner table which they were sharing with Ensigns Hoshi Sato and Travis Mayweather, "and with the British propensity for understatement, I guess what that really means is you're madder'n a wet hen."

"Yes, I am madder'n a wet hen." Malcolm mimicked Trip's Southern drawl perfectly, which as usual amused the other three, so making Malcolm even madder.

He glared at them in such a way that they all endeavoured to put on serious expressions.

"So what's eatin' you, then Mal?" Trip asked his fiancÃ©.

Malcolm picked up his mug of tea, wrapped his hands around it, and inhaled the aroma deeply before speaking; "The Captain called me into his ready room just as I came off shift. He'd had a message from Admiral Forrest. You'd never believe what hair-brained scheme the admiral has come up with now."

"We're obviously not going to be able to guess," observed Travis, "so why don't you just tell us?"

"I will if you'd stop interrupting. Where was I? Oh, yes. It seems that somebodyâ€”I can't imagine who, but he's probably got four pips on his uniformâ€”told Forrest all about that little competition we had a few weeks ago."

"Oh," squealed Hoshi, "so he knows about you being the sexiest man on board? Is he going to give you a medal or something?"

"Hoshi, really!" The interruptions were frustrating Malcolm and he spoke rather sternly to her.

"Sorry," she sighed, looking anything but.

"Just tell us, Mal." Trip put his arm around Malcolm's shoulders encouraging him to continue.

"Forrest liked the idea so much he wants to make it a Starfleet-wide thing."

The others looked at him in amazement.

"You mean...?" Hoshi for once seemed lost for words.

"I mean, that he is instigating a competition to find the sexiest person in Starfleet. All other ships and the land based institutions, like the Training and Medical Centres, are to choose their own representatives to compete in a Grand Final."

"And you are mad because...?" Travis had to ask, although he was sure they all knew the answer.

" _I_ will have to go to this 'Grand Final' to represent _Enterprise_."

"Oh, Malcolm," Hoshi gushed, "We're so proud of you. You're bound to be the overall winner. I think it's a wonderful idea."

Malcolm put his head in his hands and groaned. "I thought all this nonsense was over and done with."

"Hey, don't worry, darlin'." Trip rubbed his hand over Malcolm's back. "It might be a bit of fuss for a couple of weeks, but then we'll all be able to get back to normal."

"I hope you're right. Perhaps I could persuade the Captain to send Keely instead. After all she was the runner-up, and therefore could be a stand-in for me."

"Now the cap'n won't go along with that, Mal." Trip countered. "You'd have to have some seriously good reason for being unable to go."

"Are you thinking about alien bugs again? Because I bet you still don't have any." Malcolm was referring to an earlier time when he was trying to get out of the first competition.

"No, sorry." Trip replied. "Of course, if you were no longer in Starfleet, you would not be eligible."

"You're suggesting that I resign from Starfleet?"

"No, just going through the options."

"Some option that is." Malcolm finished his tea, put his mug down in a very deliberate fashion, looked at Trip and said, "I could think of one way they'd have no choice but to send Keely."

"And what would that be, Malcolm?" Travis was puzzled.

"If I were dead!"

"MALCOLM!" Trip shouted so loud that other diners turned to look. Trip lowered his voice but still spoke forcefully. "Don't you dare even think about it!"

"Oh, come on, Trip. I'm not that stupid. It's just another _option_."

"Thank goodness for that." Trip breathed a sigh of relief. "I know you'll find it embarrassing, but it really won't be that bad,"

The two ensigns looked relieved, too.

Travis stood up. "Well, Hoshi and Iâ€”erâ€”have things to do. We'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, goodnight," Hoshi smiled, "Don't worry, Malcolm, we'll get you through this."

The two of them took their trays and left the mess hall giggling together. Trip knew full well what 'things' they had to do in Hoshi's quarters.

"She's right, you know." he assured Malcolm. "Your friends will help you through it. Just don't be afraid to ask."

"I know, love, but I can do without this sort of thing, and it will be a much bigger affair than ours was."

"Well, don't worry yourself sick about it before you have to. Now, if you've finished playing with your dinner, perhaps we should go, too."

"OK. This is cold, anyway."

They picked up their trays, dumped the contents into the recycler, and headed for Trip's quarters, which were a bit bigger than Malcolm's, so they tended to spend most of their time together there.

Once inside Trip pulled Malcolm into his arms and kissed him. The kiss was returned warmly and eagerly, till Trip pulled away.

"Tell me, Mal, you really didn't mean what you saidâ€”about that other optionâ€”did you?"

Malcolm brought his hands round to play with the zip of Trip's uniform, pulling it down a couple of inches, then up again.

"No, love, I wouldn't do anything so foolish, not when I have so much to live for. I'm looking forward to spending many happy years with you."

"That makes two of us. Now will you stop playing with that zip and do something serious, like taking it right down?"

"You're giving me the distinct impression that you want me to undress you."

"Now why would I do that?"

That zip had never moved so fast!

* * *

At breakfast with the captain next day, Trip was informed that Crewman Kelly had been temporarily released from her duties in engineering because Admiral Forrest had been so impressed with her organisation of the competition that he wanted her to draw up a set of rules for all the other ships and facilities to use in selecting their representatives.

"But that's ridiculous, Cap'n." Trip was astounded. "It's simple enough. Why can't they just make up their own rules? As long as they send someone, does it matter how he's chosen?"

"It's not for the likes of us to decide, Trip. The admiral wants it done fair and square, and that means all using the same rules."

"So how long am I going to be without Kelly in engineering, then?"

"A few days. I've asked her to get it done as quickly as possible, and to ask for any help she needs."

"Is there any date set for this Grand Final?" Trip wanted to know.

"Not yet, but I'm sure we'll hear as soon as it is."

"I think I'm beginning to dislike this as much as Mal does." Trip muttered.

T'Pol, who had been listening to this exchange without comment, now spoke up.

"I'm sure Mr. Reed will enjoy it when it gets going. Look at the way he perked up after winning our competition. I did wonder if he intended to remove more than just his shirt."

"I doubt that very much, T'Pol. But then, you never can tell with him. I would never have expected him to do what he _did_ do." Trip had to smile at the memory of Malcolm taking off his shirt to the accompaniment of 'The Stripper'.

Captain Archer grinned. "That was certainly an unexpected sight. But much appreciated by the crew."

"Yeah. Well, I'd better get down to engineering. We've got work to do and I'm a man short." Trip took his leave and headed for the door.

Later that day Trip changed into workout gear and went to find Malcolm who he knew had been busy in the gym instructing some younger crewmembers in self-defence. Now, having finished with them, he applied himself to practising some of his tae kwon do skills. The crewmen had been about to leave, but when they realised what Mr. Reed was doing, they stopped to watch. After all, they might learn something. They moved to the edge of the room and sat on the floor.

Trip had arrived whilst Malcolm was still teaching, but he also decided to just sit and watch the show, rather than using the stationary bikes as he had intended.

Malcolm seemed oblivious of his audience and was unknowingly giving them a fantastic demonstration of the art. He was a seventh dan black beltâ€”and it showed.

Having finished a series of complicated kicks and punches, he stood quietly in the middle of the room, feet slightly apart, eyes closed. For a moment he stayed thus, just concentrating on breathing, then he started to moveâ€”very slowly and in complete contrast to the earlier exercisesâ€”he raised his arms up to chest height and swivelled on the balls of his feet to the left, making controlled but gentle movements with his hands and arms. He continued performing what some of the onlookers now recognised as tai chi. After the hard, fast and furious kickboxing, this was slow and beautiful to watch. Trip thought that the way Malcolm was doing it made it look like dancing; it was so slow, so precise, and so _sensual_. It lasted about eight minutes and in all that time, Malcolm never seemed to open his eyes.

When he came to the end, his small but very appreciative audience, burst into spontaneous applause.

He looked around seeing the crowd for the first time, and blushed. Then he saw Trip coming towards him.

"I've never seen you do tai chi before, Mal." Trip flung his arm around Malcolm's shoulders, "That was absolutely beautiful. And real sexy, too."

"It's not supposed to be sexy. It's supposed to be contemplative."

"It can be sexy as well, you know. Did you do the whole thing with your eyes shut?"

"Mostly. It concentrates the mind. If you know what you're doing you don't need to be able to see."

"Well, you gave those crewmen a great show, kick-boxing followed by tai chi! They'll be telling all their friends about it right now."

"I thought they would all have gone." Malcolm picked up his towel and wiped his face and neck. "I need a shower. Are you staying here?"

Trip looked over to the bikes that were now both in use. "Nah. Don't think I'll bother. I'll come back with you. Room for two in the shower?"

"You haven't done anything to deserve it."

"Let's get to my quarters and we can soon change that." Trip grinned.

"OK. You win." Malcolm smiled at him and led the way from the gym.

* * *

The next few weeks were spent doing things that were 'normal' for the _Enterprise_ crew, that is, they charted new star and planetary systems, had a couple of first contact situations (one of which did not go too well, and resulted in Malcolm getting a projectile wound in the shoulder whilst getting the captain out of trouble), had a dogfight with a couple of hostile alien ships, and suchlike incidental things. Nothing to write home about, really.

Then one day, Captain Archer called his senior staff together in his ready room.

"I just thought you'd like to know that I had a message from Admiral Forrest this morning. He says that all ships and facilities have sent in their entries for 'The sexiest person in Starfleet' competition, and they are now ready to proceed to the next phase.

There are nearly a hundred entrants and so the next two rounds will go exactly as we had them here. Kelly has downloaded all the photos and she will display them on the wall as before. You will then make your choices, as before."

Travis was looking rather puzzled, as were Trip and Malcolm, "But, Cap'n." he pointed out, "what's to stop us _all_ from voting for Malcolm and...?"

"I know what you mean, Travis," Archer interrupted, "but the powers that be think it will work out."

"Of course," T'Pol suggested, "there will probably be many people who will look at all the photos and judge them on merit, not just choose their shipmate."

"Yeah, and some of the smaller craft may not have anyone particularly sexy on board anyway." Trip suggested. "They most likely just sent photos of the best of a bad bunch."

"I think you may have it there, Trip," Archer was pleased they were giving some thought to this, "and we are going to have the next round in two days. People will have just twenty-four hours to cast their vote."

"So if I'm knocked out of the first round, I won't have to worry about going to the Grand Final." Malcolm seemed more cheerful. "Well, that's a relief."

"But we have faith in you, Malcolm," the captain declared. "I am fully expecting you to be in the top ten, at the very least."

Malcolm groaned. "And how long will it be before the next round, Captain?"

"Forrest wants the final to be held in two weeks time, so it won't be long."

"Well, you'd better hope I am _not_ in the top ten again since it will take us that long to get back to Earth."

"That's why we are heading back straight away at warp five, Malcolm"

"But I thought we were going to investigate that M-class planet we discovered yesterday?" Malcolm was aghast.

"Sorry, but we've had to put that on hold for another time. The admiral's orders were explicit. We have to get back for the final, just in case you are in it."

"This is crazy. They might at least wait for the results before ordering us back." Malcolm threw his hands in the air in disgust and looked across at Trip. "You're not saying much."

"What's there to say? It seems to be all cut and dried." Trip shrugged.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, they say," Archer grinned at Trip and Malcolm, "We can put the ship in space dock for a week or two for repairs and upgrades, and the crew can have shore leave."

"Oh, yes," Hoshi giggled, "and for you two it could be a honeymoon."

"My thinking exactly, Hoshi." Archer smiled. "Their wedding is planned for next week, so it will be just in time for an Earthside honeymoon. Don't you agree?"

"Hey, I think it's a wonderful idea, Cap'n." Trip answered. "Don't you, Mal?"

"Well, yes, it is actually." Malcolm conceded.

"OK. I'll keep you all informed of any progress. Dismiss." They filed out of the room to return to their various duties.

Some weeks previously, Malcolm had been the hands-down winner of _Enterprise's_ competition, much to his dismay, but he had really enjoyed the evening once he had got into the swing of things. The enjoyment had continued back in Trip's quarters when he asked Malcolm to marry him. The ceremony was to be held on board, Captain Archer would officiate, and video links were being set up to allow both families to witness the occasion. They had not been expecting a honeymoon.

* * *

Crewmen Kelly and Cutler had spent a couple of hours in the mess hall putting the pictures on the wall. There were no names attached, just numbers, and Malcolm's picture was about two-thirds of the way along, numbered seventy-three. With just twenty-four hours to make their choice, there always seemed to be a crowd in front of the photo-wall.

Trip, Malcolm, Travis and Hoshi stood together surveying it.

"I can see that you might have a problem here, Malcolm," Travis commented. "After all, we know who we're voting for, but you have to choose from all these others."

"You're not obliged to vote for me, you know."

"Oh, yes we are. Do you know what Trip's threatened us with if we don't?"

Malcolm looked shocked. "Trip, you haven't...?"

"No, of course not." Travis laughed. "Just kidding. We're voting for you because we want to. That's all there is to it."

"I'd rather you voted for someone else. But have you looked at the others? I haven't a clue who to choose. I couldn't do worse if I went 'Dip, dip, dip', or threw a dart at the pictures."

"Why don't you turn your back to the wall and pick a number out of thin air? " Trip suggested.

"That's as good a way as any, I suppose." Malcolm turned away from the wall, thought a moment, then said, "Forty-two."

When he turned back to them they were all looking at a photo of a really pretty girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and a trim figure.

"Hmm." Malcolm said, "Not bad. OK, I'll go with her."

"Not literally, I hope?" Trip grinned.

"Why forty-two, Malcolm?" Hoshi wanted to know.

"Well, you know. It's the answer to life, the universe and everything. It seemed appropriate."

They all laughed. 'The Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy' was the feature on movie night last week.

It was the work of moments then for them all to fill in their voting slips and post them in the box. It wouldn't be too long before the next round. Just a matter of days.

* * *

As before, the second round was reduced to thirty contestants, and again Kelly and Cutler had the job of clearing the photo-wall and putting back just those thirty. And again, just twenty-four hours was allowed for casting votes, so as soon as the results were available there was a crowd in the mess hall scouring the photos for their favourite.

"He's here!" A joyful shout came from the front of the crowd. "The lieutenant's got through."

Whoops and cries of delight were heard, their meaning clear to anyone.

Trip was among those scanning the board for Malcolm's picture and was overjoyed to see it there.

"Hey, Kelly," he called. "I don't suppose you know what the figures were, do you?"

"Sorry, Sir," Kelly answered from across the room, "they didn't give me that information. I'm as much in the dark as you."

"OK. No worries. I'll go tell him. He's still working."

"When's he ever not?" Kelly grinned.

Trip laughed as he left the mess hall to find his fiancÃ©.

When he arrived in the armoury all Trip could see of Malcolm were his feet and legs protruding from a torpedo tube.

"You gonna be long in there, Malcolm?" Trip asked.

"Oh, about one point seven-five metres, I imagine." Malcolm replied as he slid back out of the tube.

"Ha, ha! That's funny. You made a joke."

"It wasn't _so_ funny." Malcolm wiped his greasy hands on a rag, made some adjustments on a console, then turned to Trip.

"Did you want me for something?"

"Now that's a loaded question if ever I heard one," Trip had a big grin on his face, "but seriously, yes. I came to tell you that the results are out."

"No need to tell me what results you are referring to, is there? So are you going to tell me, or are you waiting for me to ask?"

"See this grin on my face? That should tell you what you want to know."

"Oh, no." Malcolm dropped his head onto his hands.

"Oh, yes. And guess what? Number forty-two is still there, too."

"Well that's nice. At least some people have some sense. I was really hoping to be knocked out in this round."

"Cheer up, darlin'. There's still another round to go before the final. Anything could happen."

The comm beeped.

"Archer to Reed." Malcolm hit the button. "Reed here, sir."

"Malcolm, has Trip given you the good news yet?"

"He has given me _some_ news, Sir. Whether it's good or not depends on your point of view."

"Well I think it's good news, and we should celebrate it. I'd like you and Trip to join T'Pol and me for dinner tonight."

"Of course, Sir." Malcolm said resignedly. "Trip and I will be delighted to come."

"See you both at 1800, Malcolm. I asked Chef to do something special and he mentioned having some fresh pineapple. Archer out."

Malcolm turned to Trip. "It has begun again," he groaned, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling

* * *

Twenty-four hours later the photos had been removed from the wall, the votes had been counted and the figures sent to the competition organiser.

But before the next round, however, they would be celebrating Malcolm and Trip's wedding.

It was a low-key affair held in the mess hall. Chef had baked a cake and excelled himself with the buffet, while Hoshi, Travis and several others, spent the afternoon decorating the room with balloons, banners and streamers.

The ceremony began at1900 with an exchange of vows and rings, and a kiss to seal the union. Captain Archer was very proud to officiate at the nuptials of two of his officers, and was grinning all over his face as he said, "I now pronounce you husband andâ€”erâ€”husband."

A party that went on until midnight followed the brief ceremony, and it was without doubt the happiest party they'd had on the ship.

Video links had enabled both families to watch the event, and Trip and Malcolm were able to speak to each family in turn.

Malcolm's father was not overjoyed with his son's choice of partner, but accepted him graciously, although he did insist on calling him Charles. Malcolm's mother and sister were both very happy for him and were looking forward to meeting Trip. It was quite a serious conversation.

Trip's family was the opposite. They were loud, cheerful and full of advice for the newly- weds. Trip's Mother wanted to hug Malcolm and said she would do so at the very first opportunity, which had better not be too long. They sent lots of good wishes as they waved goodbye.

When Trip and Malcolm went to leave the party as it was winding down, they found that the engineering and armoury crews had decided to escort them back to their quarters. "We're reviving an old medieval custom," Kelly informed them, "where the newly married couple are led to their new home by their friends."

So they had to wait while the procession formed up. The women, in their pretty dresses, went in front carrying baskets of (artificial) flowers, the men followed behind, and somewhere around was a piper playing some appropriate music. It was a happy procession. The women danced in front, throwing down the flowers for Trip and Malcolm to walk on. The men followed behind making lewd comments and jokes. The happy couple were a little embarrassed, especially when the procession arrived at their door and waited for Trip to open it. Before Trip and Malcolm could enter, however, the women pushed their way in and scattered the rest of the flowers around the room, especially on the bed. Then they laughingly left them to it.

Malcolm shut the door on the unruly crowd and asked, "Whatever did we do to deserve this?"

"I guess that's their way of saying 'We're your friends and we love you both.' But now we can shut them out, darlin'. It's just you an' me." Trip pulled Malcolm into his arms and kissed him tenderly, but Malcolm wanted passion so he deepened the kiss, pushing Trip towards the bed until he had to sit, then he sat astride Trip's lap and started undoing his own shirt buttons. Immediately Trip started to sing "The Stripper" so that Malcolm had to gyrate whilst removing his shirt, much to Trip's delight. Moments later they were both enjoying their first night of married bliss.

* * *

The results of the second round of the competition were to be announced at 1600 on Friday, and well before then there was a crowd gathering outside the mess hall. Kelly decided to do something different this time. Instead of displaying the ten finalist's photos, she had covered them over so that they could be revealed one by one. But she refused to begin until Malcolm was there.

She commed engineering. "Kelly to Commander Tucker."

"Tucker here. What's up, Kelly?"

"Do you think you could persuade the lieutenant to stop working for a few minutes and come to the mess hall, please?"

"I believe he's in the middle of something complicated. Can't you manage without him?"

"Well, yes sir, we could. But it will be much better if he's here."

"OK. I'll have him there in five minutes. Tucker out."

As good as his word, a few minutes later Trip ushered a somewhat reluctant Malcolm through the doors.

"I really don't know why I have to be here, Trip," he complained. "I do have a job needing my attention."

"Aw, gee, Mal, the job can wait a few minutes. Just get into the spirit of the thing, will you?" Trip gave him a playful punch on the shoulder and urged him to the front of the crowd. "Don't you want to see if number forty-two's a finalist?"

"That's the _only_ familiar face I want to see up there."

Kelly called for order and announced, "I'm going to uncover the finalists one by one, just to make it a little more interesting."

She went to the first photo and took off it's covering. It was number two. Number eleven followed and then numbers twenty-five and twenty-eight. The next to be revealed was number forty-two. A cheer went up around the hall then, as everyone knew that she was Malcolm's choice. Then Kelly proceeded to unveil the rest. Next came number fifty-three, then fifty-five,â€”then it was number eighty-one. There were howls of dismay as people realised that Malcolm wasn't there. He was seventy-three!

Trip was very disappointed, but Malcolm visibly relaxed. He was off the hook.

Eight photos had been uncovered so far, and Kelly went to uncover the ninth, number ninety-two. Finally, Kelly reached up to the last one, but people were turning away. They had lost interest.

Seeing them leaving, Kelly called out. "Are you sure you don't want to see this one?"

Most turned back, but they were barely interested. Trip and Malcolm had started for the door, but turned around at Kelly's words.

She dramatically removed the covering from the final photo, and yes, you've guessed it, it was number seventy-three!

"I was just saving the best till last," she protested, when she could be heard over the cheering that had suddenly erupted in the room.

Malcolm looked shocked. He'd been so sure he wasn't a finalist, that now, to discover after all that he was, he was speechless. Trip, on the other hand, was overjoyed, and he let everyone know it. He jumped up and down whooping with sheer delight. His pleasure was infectious. Soon the whole mess hall was jumping. Malcolm sat at a table watching the antics of his shipmates, wondering if the whole crew had gone mad. Then he saw Captain Archer standing by the door with a huge grin on his face. There was no way he could get out of it now!

When Kelly checked the voting slips for the final round she was not surprised to find that there were eighty-two votes for number seventy-three and one for number forty-two! She sent the figures off to the competition organiser feeling quite pleased.

* * *

A few days later the ship had arrived at the space dock in Earth's orbit and most of the crew were eagerly preparing for some shore leave. Malcolm and Trip, with some friends for support, were headed for San Francisco where the contest final was being held. Captain Archer, together with Hoshi and Travis, was intending to enjoy every moment of the coming event. Malcolm, of course, was dreading it.

Hoshi had instructed Trip to make sure that Malcolm packed all his sexy outfits, but especially the leather trousers! Dress uniform would also be essential for the eventual winner, so Trip spent time helping his husband with his packing.

"OK, Mal." Trip gestured to the half-dozen bags on the bed, "I think that's about everything."

"Are you quite sure we've got enough?" Malcolm asked sarcastically. "Maybe we should pack one more bag just to be on the safe side."

"Nah." Trip laughed. "This'll do. You've got the essentials. Now we'd better get down to the shuttle bay. The Cap'n will be waiting for us."

Malcolm sighed and picking up some of the bags, made for the door. They only just managed to squeeze themselves and their luggage into the turbolift, to go down to the shuttle bay.

They were greeted by the captain and the two ensigns who were all out of uniform and were treating this as a holiday. Hoshi and Travis cheerfully grabbed the bags and stowed them into Shuttlepod One.

Malcolm looked at the pod and mused, "Considering the bad luck I usually have in this thing, I don't think I need worry about the outcome of this contest."

"Shut up and get in, Malcolm," Archer ordered, "or we'll never get there."

Obeying orders, he followed Trip into the pod and found his seat.

They had booked into a hotel close to the convention centre where the final was to be held, and were soon installed in their rooms. Archer had told the receptionist that Trip and Malcolm were just married, and the manager had insisted on giving them the bridal suite, the main feature of which was the enormous circular bed.

The ceremony was not till the next day, so the group had a chance to look round the city and see the sights. They were quite surprised to find the city plastered with pictures of all the ten finalists. They were everywhereâ€”in shop windows, on hoardings and even on giant screens high up on tall buildings. Hoshi and Travis had great fun running around spotting Malcolm's picture in lots of different places. Starfleet was making the most of recruiting possibilities. Finally, they ended up in a small Italian cafe` where they enjoyed various pastas, washed down with Chianti and cappuccino, before heading for their beds and a good night's sleep.

The ceremony was not due to start until 1400, so as they had no need to get up early, Trip and Malcolm made good use of the oversized bed, then shared a bath in an oversized circular Jacuzzi. Trip made sure that Malcolm dressed appropriately for the ceremonyâ€”the leather trousers were a 'must', and Malcolm topped them with a silver grey shirt. They met the others for lunch in the hotel dining room, where Hoshi complimented Malcolm on his outfit.

"That's a good choice, Malcolm," she commented, "that shirt goes well with your eyes."

"Thank you, Hoshi," he replied, "but I shall be glad when this is all over."

"Well, the results are in." Travis remarked, "It's really just a case of announcing the winner, isn't it?"

"Yes," Archer added, "but it's a two hour ceremony, so what are they going to do all that time?"

They found out when they got to the hall. The programme included musical entertainment

from several groups and solo artistes, interspersed with potted biographies of all the finalists and ending with the actual announcement of the winner.

There was a reserved section of the hall for the finalists and a companion, so Archer, Travis and Hoshi had to find themselves seats in the main body of the auditorium. Trip sat with Malcolm amongst the other contestants and their friends. Malcolm looked around at the others and soon spotted number forty-two sitting with a scholarly-looking type who was probably her boyfriend. He thought she looked even prettier in the flesh. She saw him looking her way and smiled. In return, he gave her his little half-smile, and a wink, which made her laugh. He nudged Trip and nodded towards her. Trip grinned and waved. She blew him a kiss! Then the lights went down and the programme started.

The MC was well chosen for the job. He had the audience laughing and relaxed within five minutes. Even Malcolm fell under his spell. He talked about the competition reminding everyone how the earlier heats had been run, and then explained the prizes that were 'up for grabs' by the winner and two runners-up. Trip and Malcolm had not heard about the prizes and so were quite interested in what they were. Lacey and Garrod's, the world's biggest international store, had promised the winner a year's free shopping. Considering that they sold everything from an egg cup to a private, luxury shuttlecraft, it gave the winner plenty of scope to indulge. Those coming second and third would each get two and one month's free shopping, respectively. A round of appreciative applause greeted this announcement, and the finalists were getting quite excited. Even Malcolm perked up.

"Just think what we could do with that, Trip," he whispered.

"Yeah. We could buy ourselves a house and furnish it from top to bottom at L & G's."

"Do they sell houses?" Malcolm wondered.

"Dunno. But we could soon find out."

"Stop it, Trip," Malcolm laughed. "You're counting your chickens."

"I can dream, can't I?"

They were entertained for ten minutes by a music group that was supposed to be wonderful, but really just made an awful noise. Well, that was Malcolm's opinion, anyway. Then a picture of the first finalist had appeared on a huge screen at the back of the stage, and a commentator started telling the audience all about him. He was number two; a personable young man aged nineteen, who was a cadet at Starfleet's Training Centre. People who knew him were interviewed and asked to give their opinions about him, so that the audience would know what sort of person he was. There were scenes from the Training Centre where all his friends were rooting for him. His parents, grandparents and two sisters all had their say.

Malcolm looked at Trip in horror.

"I hope they're not going to do that for everyone! Please don't tell me they've been interviewing my family, Trip"

"If they have, I haven't been told. I'm as surprised about this as you are."

"This is going to be _SO_ embarrassing."

Trip took Malcolm's hand and squeezed it gently. "Hey, come on, darlin', it can't be that bad."

"I hope not." Malcolm smiled wanly, "You know, I'm really glad you're here with me."

Another 'musical' item followed, and then number eleven was given the same treatment. And so it continued, some music, followed by a potted biography. Number forty-two was an ensign doing astrometrics. Her name was Valencia and strangely enough, that's where she was born.

Inevitably they came to number seventy-three. Malcolm cringed to see his picture on this enormous screen, and slid down in his seat in an attempt to make himself invisible. Trip took a tight hold of Malcolm's hand and refused to let go.

"Number seventy-three is Malcolm Reed," the commentator told them, "a lieutenant serving on board the starship _Enterprise_. He is the weapons and tactical officer, and he is also chief of security, which makes him rather an important member of the crew. We were unable to interview his parents, but managed to contact his sister Madeleine, and Aunt Sherry."

"Oh, no!" Malcolm groaned. "Not Aunt Sherry. I dread to think what she will say."

"I know she's a littleâ€”wellâ€”dotty, but I'm sure she'll only speak well of you. After all, she _is_ rather fond of you." Trip tried to ease Malcolm's concerns.

Malcolm needn't have worried as both his sister and aunt gave him glowing references. Aunt Sherry told them what a lovely boy he was. "Always well behaved, polite and reliable," she gushed. "I could tell you lots of stories about him but I don't suppose you've got time. And now he is grown up and exploring space, I'm so proud of him."

Next up on the screen came the faces of Hoshi and Travis who spoke about him from the point of view of his shipmates. They both seemed really pleased to be able to tell everyone what a loyal, dependable friend he was, and how he was always getting the Captain out of dangerous situations. They didn't spare him, but laid it on very thickly! They must have been interviewed just before the ceremony started, as they were shown in the vestibule of the conference hall.

Malcolm was very glad when the next musical item was announced.

Once all the finalists had been shown on the screen, the MC came onto the stage and said that there would be a half-hour interval before the actual announcing of the winners took place. This was to allow the finalists to go backstage and prepare themselves for the ordeal. So they and their friends were applauded as they left their seats to depart the auditorium, and, guided by an usher, to make their way to the 'green room' and make-up.

Trip and Malcolm were among the last to enter the, by now, crowded room. A bevy of girls were waiting to apply make-up and Malcolm was soon being attended to.

"But why?" he asked. "Surely this is unnecessary?"

"On the contrary," he was told, "without it you will look like death warmed up under those lights. And your friend will get made-up, too, because if you win, he will be expected to go on stage with you."

The make-up girl took one look at Malcolmâ€”and her knees turned to jelly. She was entranced. Unfortunately, she then became so nervous that she was all fingers and thumbs, and kept dropping things. After Trip had picked up her tool for the third time, Malcolm turned to her and said, "Why don't you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then start again?"

She did as he suggested and was able to complete her work without dropping anything else. She then worked on Trip before turning to one of the other finalists.

Those who were ready sat and chatted, getting to know each other. Valencia came over to Malcolm and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Valencia King. Val to my friends."

"Malcolm Reed. Pleased to meet you."

"Ha! Val and Mal. That's neat." Then she asked, indicating Trip, "Is he your bodyguard, your friend or what?"

"My husband." Malcolm answered.

"Aw, shucks." she pouted. "Just my luck for you to be already spoken for."

"I'm sure you'll meet the man of your dreams one day."

"I thought I had just done that."

Malcolm laughed. "You're young. You've plenty of time."

She sighed dramatically "I knew you were just too good to be true."

He laughed again. "I'm surprised you haven't got loads of young men falling at your feet already."

"Well, there are one or two, if I'm honest about it. But I quite took a fancy to you."

"You can fancy as much as you like," Trip joined in, grinning, "just don't touch. OK?"

"OK," she said, holding her hands up, "I get the message." It was all in fun and they were soon chatting amicably together.

"So which of the ten finalists did you vote for?" Valencia asked Malcolm.

"Actually, I voted for you." Malcolm replied.

"Wow!" Her eyes lit up. "Really? And I voted for you."

They all laughed at this revelation, then Valencia wandered off to rejoin her boyfriend.

Then it was time for the next part of the ceremony. The stage had been set with a throne adorned with gold and white satin drapes, at one side of the stage was a row of ten chairs, and on the opposite side, the MC stood at a podium.

The first finalist, number two, was announced by name and, entering the stage from one side, he had to walk all the way across to meet the MC at the podium. This was the only chance the audience had of seeing the competitors in person and hearing them speak as they were to be interviewed briefly before taking their seats on the row of chairs. Malcolm had been doing some mental exercises to keep himself calm so that when it was his turn to go on stage, he did so with aplomb, grace and dignity. He acquitted himself well at the interview, answering the inane questions politely, and then walked across to his seat to a round of appreciative applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the MC announced when all ten had been interviewed, "it is time to tell you the winners of this little competition. I have to tell you that the first three managed to score sixty-seven per cent of the votes between them, leaving only thirty-three per cent for the other seven. There is a very clear line between the top three and the rest, and only two percent divides the third from the first. This was a very, very close contest, and we had to recount the votes several times. Well, we didn't want to make a mistake, did we?

So without more ado, in third place, and with eighteen per cent of the votes, is number eleven, Jason Delfrido."

Jason, a well muscled, blond lad working as a Starfleet technician on Jupiter Station, bounced across the stage from his seat, to the excited applause of his supporters in the audience. He had a big grin on his face and was obviously delighted even to have come third.

A pretty actress (whose name meant nothing to Malcolm) presented Jason with a big bottle of bubbly, an envelope from Lacey and Garrod's and a huge kiss. Amid more applause, he was then asked to take his place on one side of the throne.

"Now it gets more exciting," the MC said. "Jason had eighteen per cent of the votes, the runner-up had nineteen per cent, and the winner had twenty per cent. I told you it was close!

And now, it's my pleasure to announce the runner-up. Number forty-two. Valencia King."

Malcolm gave her a big smile as she rose to go forward. He wished she had come first, but was happy for her to have second place. He was feeling better, having escaped being second and third. He thought his chances of coming first were getting less all the time. He looked along the row and decided that several of them were more likely to win than he was.

A popular, young, male entertainer made Valencia's presentation. He first kissed and congratulated her, then handed her a bottle of bubbly, an envelope from the store and a huge arrangement of flowers. Amid tumultuous applause she took her place on the other side of the throne to Jason.

"Now I expect you're all dying to know who is first, but I really think I ought to make you wait a little longer, so here is a new music group to entertain you for a few minutesâ€”ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it forâ€”the Armadillos."

Malcolm was dumbstruck. The Armadillos were a group of three musicians and a singer from his armoury and security teams. They were good, but he had no idea they were considered good enough for such a high-profile event as this. They performed a song called 'Where my heart will take me', and followed it with 'I'm too sexy for my shirt', receiving a well-deserved ovation afterwards. (It seemed they had been secretly engaged for the event only that morning, when the contest organisers, knowing who the winner was, found out about the group from _Enterprise_ crew wandering round the city.)

"Thank you, Armadillos. I hope we'll hear more from you in the future." The MC seemed to like them, anyway. He went on:

"So now we come to the main event. Which of these eight fine young people is our winner, I wonder? I actually do not know. But I have an envelope here which contains the name you are all waiting to hear." He waved a gold coloured envelope at the audience. "I shall now open it." He broke the seal and removed a folded sheet of paper from inside. He took his time unfolding the paper while looking at the finalists, who were all by now a little bit nervous. He looked at the paper and beamed!

"Ladies and gentlemen. The one you have chosen as the sexiest person in Starfleet is -

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed!"

Thunderous applause greeted this announcement, Trip backstage dancing up and down with delight.

Malcolm, however, couldn't believe his ears.

'No'. he thought. 'They must have got it wrong.'

But he was being urged from his seat to go centre stage. He stood up feeling rather unsteady on his feet, and went where he was asked.

"Well, Malcolm," the MC said to him, "you look a little stunned."

"Yes," Malcolm answered, "I am. Don't you think you had better have another recount? You must have made a mistake."

"No mistake, Malcolm. We had five recounts and they came out the same each time. Like it or not, you're it! Now, I hope you've got a smile for your audience, because it's something you're going to have to get used to. There will be lots of audiences expecting smiles from you in the next few weeks." This remark puzzled Malcolm, and Trip too, but this was not the time to pursue it.

Two long-legged girls in skimpy costumes appeared and conducted Malcolm towards the throne, settling him on it. Then they disappeared, only to return a few moments later with Trip. Trip's grin went from ear to ear and he went right up to Malcolm and hugged him.

"I'm so proud of you, darlin'," he said. Then stepped back so that the presentation could be made.

It was the Managing Director of the store who handed Malcolm his bottle of bubbly and the envelope containing a voucher allowing Malcolm a year's free shopping in any of his stores world wide.

"We decided against flowers for you when a little bird informed us that you are allergic to certain flower pollens. But I hope you will make good use of this voucher. You certainly deserve it."

"Thank you very much, sir." Malcolm replied. "I'll do my best."

More applause followed the presentation, while Malcolm felt rather uncomfortable but tried not to show it.

Malcolm then, mostly on his own but sometimes with Trip, had to submit to a lengthy photo session, until finally the two leggy girls escorted the pair off the stage.

Flopping into a chair, Malcolm fanned his face and said to Trip, "I don't want to have to go through anything like that in my life, ever again."

"You carried it off beautifully, darlin'. They all loved you."

"But what did he mean about more audiences?"

"Dunno. But I'll find out before we leave here."

They did find out. It seems that someone had neglected to inform Captain Archer that the winner would be expected to make the rounds of some of the Starfleet facilities and 'flying the flag', so to speak.

"This means we'll be kept busy for the next couple of weeks chasing around like headless chickens, from one engagement to another." Malcolm was not pleased with this turn of events. He had hoped that once the competition was over, he and Trip could disappear somewhere for some quiet time together. They had planned on renting a cottage in the English countryside. A small village in the wilds of Exmoor was their preferred choice. But it seemed that it was not to be.

There was no peace and quiet for them now, either, as they were whisked back to their hotel so that they could change into dress uniform preparatory to meeting, and later dining with, a group of very senior officers, including Admiral Forrest, at Starfleet HQ. They had no time to themselves at all for the rest of that day, until they arrived back at their hotel very late, and longing for their bed. They had seen nothing of Archer, Hoshi and Travis, but suspected that they would have rounded up some of the crew to tell them all about it.

The next day was to be very busy. They were to visit Starfleet's Training Centre and meet the cadets there. It would be a full day visit, culminating in an informal dinner with the cadets in the evening.

They rolled into bed, snuggled up, and fell asleep. Tomorrow would be a heavy day.

* * *

Breakfast was intended to be taken downstairs in the dining room, but Trip and Malcolm soon found that the ground floor of the hotel was packed to the gills with media people wanting to interview Malcolm. Trip arranged for them to have breakfast in their room, and they invited Captain Archer, Hoshi and Travis to join them. Malcolm was expected at the Training Centre to meet the cadets at 10.00. How they were going to get through the crowded foyer without being delayed was anybody's guess.

"On my own, I could sneak out, Trip," Malcolm said, "but in dress uniform and with you, it would be well nigh impossible."

"Yeah. You couldn't exactly climb down a drainpipe dressed like that, now, could you?" Trip indicated the white trousers and white gold-braided jacket Malcolm wore.

They needn't have worried though, as a security guard from the Training Centre turned up to escort them, and so they were led through the crowds with no difficulties. Outside, Trip was the first to notice that all the photos were now of just Malcolm, the other nine having been relegated to the rubbish heap, or something. It was rather daunting for Malcolm to be confronted by his own face every few metres on their route.

The limousine deposited them at the half-dozen front steps of the Training Centre in good time, and they were amazed to find an actual red carpet was laid all the way up to the doors. There was also quite a crowd collected to see Malcolm's arrival.

"Gosh," he muttered to Trip, "I feel like royalty with all this fuss."

"Then I guess you should act like royalty. Give 'em a wave."

As they stepped on to the carpet there was a burst of cheering, making Malcolm blush slightly, but he raised his hand in a wave. This gesture was much appreciated and the response he received encouraged Malcolm to repeat it several times on his way up to the doors. He was met at the top by the principal and turned to wave again to the crowd before going inside.

The main Hall was abuzz with excitement. Every seat was filled. Not only was their visitor today the sexiest person in Starfleet, he was also a bit of a legend. All new cadets were told of his excellence during his training, and it was rumoured that no cadet had passed out with as many honours as he. Now they had a chance to meet him and possibly to ask a few questions, and they intended to make the most of it.

At precisely 10.00 the doors at the back of the Hall opened and Malcolm entered escorted by the principal. Trip and the rest of the Training Centre staff followed behind. The cadets immediately rose to their feet and stood to attention. The procession walked down the centre aisle, mounted the steps onto the stage and arranged themselves on the chairs provided.

The principal stood at the podium and addressed the cadets.

"At ease. Be seated." They sat as one, gazing in awe at the slight, rather modest-looking figure occupying the seat of honour.

"As you all know, we have been honoured today with a visit by a former cadet of this academy, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Accompanying Mr Reed is his husband Commander Charles Tucker III. Both men are currently assigned to Starfleet's flagship, the NX01 _Enterprise._ Mr Reed is the Weapons and Tactical officer, and Mr Tucker is the Chief Engineer. Mr Reed is here primarily as the winner of the 'Sexiest person in Starfleet' competition, but as he is here for the whole day, touring the classrooms this afternoon, and joining us for an informal dinner this evening, I have asked him to talk to you now about his Starfleet training and his experiences on _Enterprise_. Any questions you may have regarding the competition you will please keep for this evening. And now I will ask you all to give Mr. Reed a very warm welcome."

And they did. As Malcolm stepped up to the podium the cadets applauded loudly and enthusiastically.

"Thank you." Malcolm said when the applause died down, "I wasn't expecting to give a lecture today, so I have nothing prepared. It might be a good idea if you ask questions and I will attempt to answer them. Does anyone have a question?"

About fifty hands shot up. "Ah. This could be difficult." Malcolm considered the problem for a moment, then said, "Could someone organise a couple of microphones in the body of the hall, one on each side, please?"

'Someone' immediately disappeared to do his bidding, meanwhile Malcolm continued.

"I suggest that you go to a mike with your question and I will take one from each side of the hall in turn, but please, no more than two or three at any time in each queue."

The microphones were soon in place with cadets lining up at each.

Malcolm looked to one side of the hall. "Right. First question."

"Cadet Thorne, Sir. Is it true that when you graduated you took almost all the prizes for that year, and all with honours?"

"Ermâ€”yes. Next question."

The brevity of his answer rather flummoxed the next cadet, but she plunged in bravely.

"Cadet Bronte, Sir. Why did you consider it necessary to give the phase pistols a stun setting?"

"Because, Cadet Bronte, dead is dead, and that is not always the best solution. Many species we encountered were very suspicious of us at first, and that is only natural, so for them it was a 'shoot first, ask questions later' attitude. But by stunning, rather than killing them, we really could 'ask questions later'. And you needed to be reasonably sure about who was a real enemy, and who was just plain scared. Choose the wrong setting and you could be in trouble. That is why I impress upon people not to confuse the two. Having said that we rarely use the kill setting, stun usually does the job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Cadet Wigmore, Sir. Can you tell us why and how you developed the EM barrier."

"Good question. Hmm. The EM barrier, more popularly known as the forcefield, was already being developed. I simply stabilised and refined it.

'Why' is simple enough. We had an alien entity in one of the cargo holds. It was growing fairly rapidly and anyone who got in its clutches was enveloped in its web. Captain Archer, Commander Tucker and three other crewmen were caught before we realised that it was very slowly assimilating them. It was impossible for anyone to get close to it, so it was necessary to isolate the cargo bay in order to establish some kind of communication. And what we needed was a working EM barrier.

As to 'how', well... Starfleet had actually been working on an EM barrier for about five years, but were unable to get it stabilised. They hadn't been able to find a way to control the particle density. All the specs were in the ship's database and I had been playing around with them since joining _Enterprise_. I had got it to a stage where it was stable for a few minutes but needed to work on it a bit longer. This emergency gave me the excuse, for want of a better word, to make a concerted effort to get the job done. There wasn't much time, so the result was very much a jerry-rigged contraption. But it worked. Afterwards it just needed some refining, and has been a useful piece of equipment ever since. Does that answer your query, cadet?"

"Yes it does. Thank you very much, Sir."

"Cadet Regan, Sir. This is more of a statement than a question. Perhaps you could comment on it."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Sir. You are the chief of security on the most advanced vessel in Starfleet, but you are not the archetypal security chief. I mean, sir, that you are not two metres tall and built like a barn door, are you, sir?"

"That's quite true, I'm not. But I do manage to do my job quite satisfactorily." Malcolm turned to the next questioner, but was stopped by Trip who stepped up to Malcolm's side and said into the microphone, "I think I'll elaborate on that, Malcolm. You go and take the weight off for a few minutes." Looking rather bemused, Malcolm did as he was told and sat down.

"OK, so you expect a chief of security to be two metres tall and built like a barn door. I take it that means lots of muscle? You may not be able to see it but there _is_ a lot of muscle under that dress uniform, he just doesn't show it off much. Can't do anything about his height, though, and personally I wouldn't want to. He suits me fine the way he is." A ripple of laughter greeted this remark.

"But what about his qualities that you can't see?" Trip continued, warming to his theme. "During his security training he reached the highest grades in several martial arts, like tae kwon do and karate, and yet he does the soft form of tai chi and makes it look like ballet. He's the _sneakiest_ person I knowâ€”he can get in and out of a heavily guarded building and you'd never know he'd been there except that he'd bring you some kind of proof.

And then we come to explosives. He knows more about explosives than anyone else in Starfleet. If you were to ask him to make a hole in the groundâ€”say two-point-seven metres wide by one-point-three metres deep, that's exactly what you'll get. He can calculate _precisely_ how much explosive to use in a particular situation. I don't know of anyone else who can do that. He's never happier than when he can make something go 'kaboom'." Trip used his arms to describe an explosion to his enraptured audience.

"Now take weapons," he continued. "His knowledge of weaponry is vast. And I don't just mean modern day stuff. He's as competent using a spear, sword, longbow or Winchester rifle, as he is with a phase pistol or plasma rifle. And since he's been on _Enterprise_ he has learnt about, and become skilled with, many alien weapons too. Have you heard about the Klingon bat'leth? He's quite capable of holding his own against a Klingon adversary with one of his own weapons, even though the average Klingon is twice his size.

Another skill he has, which I've never seen him use and really don't want to, is that he can kill with his bare hands. He has been called the most dangerous man on _Enterprise_ , but in fact, he's probably the most dangerous man in Starfleet.

And what do you think is his biggest asset? You won't guess, so I'll tell you. It comes back to your original question, cadet. It is his _lack_ of stature. Y'see, boys and girls, people _will_ keep on underestimating him, and they come off worst each time." Trip stepped back from the podium, leaving the cadets completely overawed by this information, and turned to Malcolm. "You can have the floor back, now, Mal."

Malcolm nodded and muttered "Thank you, Trip," then took his place at the microphone again. He waited for the applause to die down, then said "I don't know how to follow that."

The cadets still had lots of questions, however, and kept Malcolm busy for another hour. They asked about the ship, the crew, the tactical alert, the various planets and nebulae he had come across, different alien species like the Suliban, andâ€”wellâ€”just about anything. When the session was over the cadets gave Malcolm a rousing cheer. They were very appreciative of the way he so freely gave out information. Of course he kept any classified stuff to himself, but what he could tell them, he did.

Lunch for Trip and Malcolm was a quiet time just for the two of them, in one of the V.I.P. suites reserved for visitors Malcolm had found the morning quite exhausting and his throat was rather dry with so much talking, so was glad of the peace.

"Why don't you stretch out on the bed and have a nap?" Trip suggested when they had eaten. "We've got an hour or more before the tour starts." Malcolm looked at the bed and decided it was very inviting. He removed his fancy uniform, settled himself down and was soon fast asleep. Trip sat in an armchair by the window where he could watch the comings and goings in the courtyard, and also where he could watch Malcolm as he slept.

At 1350 Trip shook Malcolm awake. "Come on, Sleepyhead," he said, " they'll be back for us in a few minutes."

Malcolm yawned, stretched and declared, "Gosh, I needed that." Five minutes later he had donned his uniform and was all spruce and ready to go.

The afternoon was less daunting than the morning, since they were only required to visit various classes and watch the cadets at work. Malcolm couldn't resist getting involved, though, asking questions about what they were doing, making suggestions and generally 'poking his nose in'. The cadets showed great interest in his input, and listened to him respectfully.

"Y'know," Trip said, as they headed back to their suite, "you should take up teaching when you're fed up with space travel. You've got a way with those kids. I bet they've leant more from you today than they would in a month normally."

"I think you're exaggerating, Trip, but yes, I would like to teach eventually. What about you? You know a thing or two about engineering."

"Yeah, I s'pose I should pass on the knowledge before it gets lost." Trip grinned. "But we've got a couple of hours now before this dinner we're expected at. What shall we do?"

"Well, you know," Malcolm purred, "that bed was very comfortable earlier..."

"It was? Then I reckon we shouldn't let it go to waste."

"No, that would be such a shame." By the time they reached their suite they were entwined about each other. It's a good thing they were on the top floor and no one else was around!

After giving the bed a good workout they barely had time for a shower (together) and to dress before going downstairs for the dinner. Trip wore a white shirt and cream coloured slacks, while Malcolm was wearing his favourite outfitâ€”black button up shirt (with half the buttons left undone) and black leather trousers. And he _still_ didn't realise how sexy he looked in it. To him it was justâ€”wellâ€”comfortable.

The dinner was a pleasant, informal affair with lots of chatter and laughter. Only the waiting staff wore uniform, and the variety of civvies was amazing although there was not a single tee shirt and jeans ensemble to be seen. For the cadets it was certainly a party.

When the dessert dishes had been removed and coffee was served the principal called for attention.

"This will be your one and only opportunity to question Lieutenant Reed about his title of the 'Sexiest person in Starfleet', so I'd advise you to make the most of it."

When the cheering subsided the questions started coming. There were the obvious ones like how did he feel about being the winner of such a competition, and did Mr. Tucker vote for him? And some less obvious like, was he going to take up a career in modelling now? He answered all as honestly and truthfully as he could, and when finally the questions stopped he thought it was all over. How wrong he was! Out came the cameras, as all the cadets wanted their own personal photo of him. He was asked to come round to the front of the table so people could get better pictures, and he graciously obliged. He stood and sat in different positions as asked, and then there was a shout from further back in the hall.

"Get your shirt off, Sir, we want to see your muscles." The cry was echoed all round the hall, "Yes, come on, Sir. Get it off."

Malcolm looked at Trip. This was exactly what had happened when he won on _Enterprise._ Hegave a deep sigh, shrugged, and climbed up onto a table. Then he started to unbutton his shirt. Someone in the crowd must have heard what had happened on _Enterprise_ at this point, because the strains of a harmonica playing "The Stripper" were heard, and as before Malcolm played up to it, moving sensually in time to the music, whilst slowly undoing his buttons. The cadets la la-ed the tune clapping in time as they sang until Malcolm finally flung his shirt across the room. There was thunderous applause at this action, and cameras were working overtime. Cadets who were standing close enough were able to see several scars on Malcolm's torsoâ€”proof, if it was needed, of the dangers involved in being a security chief. Malcolm posed as he had the first time, with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his trousers, then he suggestively undid the top button and toyed with the zip! The cadets went wild. They'd forgotten that he was a lieutenant in Starfleet. To them he was simply a gorgeously sexy man.

Trip decided to get in on the act again, or maybe to remind them that Malcolm was his and they couldn't have him. Whatever the reason, he climbed on the table behind Malcolm and put his arms around him, running his hands over Malcolm's chest. While cameras clicked from all corners, as on the previous occasion Trip worked his hands downwards until he could tuck his fingers into the waistband of Malcolm's trousers. Then Malcolm turned in the circle of Trip's arms and gave his husband a long, lingering kiss!

When they broke apart, Malcolm jumped down from the table and went in search of his shirt. As it was handed to him, a cadet asked, "Sir, do you really do tai chi?"

"Yes, why?"

"I thought it wasâ€”erâ€”kinda sissy, Sir." Cadets standing nearby were rather shocked at this remark.

"Are you saying I'm a sissy?" Malcolm gave him such a look the cadet blanched and backed away. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly cooled.

Malcolm pushed his shirt into Trip's hands and strode to the middle of the room, "Clear some of these tables out of the way," he instructed. "I need some space." He sat down and removed his shoes and socks.

Moving into the cleared space, he stood silently in the centre, wearing nothing but his trousers, feet slightly apart, eyes closed. Then he began the tai chi form. Beautifully, like a dancer, he moved through the exercise, his muscles rippling with each step and arm movement. Although performing very slowly he was completely controlled, never losing his balance or missing a step. The cadets were entranced. When he came to the finish he stood still for a moment, then he adopted a fighting stance.

"Right," he challenged, "does anybody want to call me a sissy?"

He slowly turned in a circle, looking at everyone, challenging them, but no one stepped forward. What? Take on the most dangerous man in Starfleet? Not likely!

He laughed then, lightening the atmosphere. "Let me assure you," he said. "Tai chi can be as tough as any of the martial arts, and can take as long to learn properly. Don't underestimate it." He took his shirt from Trip and put it on, shoes and socks also.

It was close to midnight by now, so the principal called a halt to the evening, thanked their guests for coming and wished everyone goodnight. Trip and Malcolm were given a rousing send-off by the cadets, before going up to their suite and falling into bed. It had been a very tiring day one way and another. 

Tomorrow would be the start of ten hectic days of travelling around the world visiting several Starfleet facilities, posing for photos, signing autographs and talking to various groups of people. And when all that was done, Trip and Malcolm would be headed for that village in the heart of the Devon countryside, and a few days of peaceful relaxation, before reporting back for duty on _Enterprise._ They were both very much looking forward to that and getting back to normal. Plus, of course, they would now be able to buy a house and furnish it completely, courtesy of Lacey and Garrod's!

* * *

_Epilogue_

Eventually they arrived back on _Enterprise_ with only a couple of hours to spare before the ship left dry dock and headed into deep space once again. As the pair exited the shuttlepod they were amazed to find the launch bay area packed with crewmembers eager to welcome them home. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, and as Malcolm appeared, the Armadillos started singing 'I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt', and making a better job of it than the original group, Right Said Fred. Malcolm, by now, was quite used to removing his shirt in public, having had to do so a number of times in the last few weeks, and had no qualms about doing so yet again. He would do anything for the _Enterprise_ crew. They were his 'family', after all. So to make them happy, he took his shirt offâ€”one more time!


End file.
